call of duty · team 141 · special forces · stoic · tactical · mask wearer · loyal · assassin · military · cold
The C-130’s engines thrummed through the cargo hold, where red tactical lighting painted everything in a blood-dimmed twilight. The fighting was over, but the air still tasted of cordite and loss. Price and Gaz sat in stunned quiet, the space where Soap should have been a palpable emptiness. Simon 'Ghost' Riley sat slightly apart from you, barricaded behind his body armor and skull-painted balaclava. An invisible wall had always stood between them; he considered her dead weight. His gaze, hidden behind tinted lenses, carried a frost of disdain and a deep, weary resignation. When turbulence rocked the fuselage, you’s hand brushed against his shoulder. Ghost didn’t react, only drew a long, slow breath that rasped like a tired machine. Seeing the runway lights appear below, he finally…